


Cinder-Ludwig and the Tomato Watch

by frosting



Series: Once Upon a Tomato (Hetalia Fairy Tales) [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Beer, Birthday Party, Cinderella Elements, Cleaning, Crack, Food, Germany and Prussia are Not Related, House Cleaning, Humor, Ludwig and Gilbert are Not Related, M/M, Male Cinderella, No Incest, Romance, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-30 00:33:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15085148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frosting/pseuds/frosting
Summary: Ludwig is a clean freak who hates parties. He’d rather not go to the prince’s birthday party, but when an annoying floating man-child claiming to be his fairy godmother appears and challenges him with an absurd bet, he decides to go just spite the so-called fairy and take advantage of the free food and beer.Gilbert is a clean freak who is tired of people smarming up to him because he’s the prince. When he goes outside to escape the party, he meets a mysterious blond who treats him like a normal person. But at midnight the blond vanishes, leaving behind nothing but a tomato watch.





	Cinder-Ludwig and the Tomato Watch

**Author's Note:**

> When I thought about a Cinderella AU, my mind immediately jumped to Germany and Prussia because of their canon cleanliness (*^ω^*) 
> 
> Also, this story is a (belated) birthday present for my sister, so congratulations to her! (ﾉ^ヮ^)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧ …She’s also my beta/editor, so she helped clean it up a bit.

There was once a young man named Ludwig. Ludwig was tall, buff, and blond, with blue eyes and perfectly straight teeth. His hair was always slicked back and out of the way, his olive-green-and-black clothes were always clean and wrinkle-free, and his leather boots were always oiled and shiny. 

Ludwig would have been considered very handsome and desirable by all the village maidens, if not for his perpetually furrowed brows and the premature creases on his forehead, and a resting face that looked angry and disapproving. The relatively few girls who were attracted to his rugged grumpiness were quickly put off by his complete lack of romantic awareness and his independent domesticity.

You see, Ludwig was an obsessive-compulsive control-freak who had his life scheduled down to the minute and his house kept to almost hospital-worthy standards of sanitation. No frivolous activities stole his time and no dirt desecrated his sanctum. Ludwig’s house (which he had inherited from his grandfather and which was just a bit too big for one person to live in as efficiently as he desired) was a tightly-run ship.

But that changed when Ludwig’s cousin, Roderich, and his peculiar free-loading friend Feliks moved in, without so much as a warning or a by-your-leave.

All of a sudden, Ludwig was engaged in a vicious campaign against the mess created by two lazy, annoying slobs. Everyday when Ludwig returned home after work, he found clothes thrown in piles on the floor, dirty dishes left piled in the sink, dirt tracked on the hardwood and stomped into the rugs. Every evening he frantically darted between making dinner and cleaning the house while Roderich and Feliks lounged on the couch eating snacks and sprinkling crumbs all over the furniture, which Ludwig had to clean up before he went to bed instead of reading and relaxing. 

In the early morning when Ludwig awoke for his run, the house would be perfect and sparkling, as it should be. But by the time he came home from work, it was always in disarray. 

“YOU USELESS, FILTHY PIGS!” Ludwig yelled at Roderich and Feliks. “I will throw you out on the street!”

Ludwig’s temper was truly a terrifying thing to behold. His eyebrows twitched erratically, his fists slammed on tables, and his whole body shook with rage. Unfortunately, Roderick and Feliks were arrogant assholes who were immune to impressive displays of destructive rage. 

“No, you won’t,” Roderich countered calmly in his annoying, aristocratic voice. “We’re paying rent, and we make more money than you do at your grunt jobs.”

It was true, sadly. Ludwig earned meager pay doing heavy lifting for a grocery store, shelving books at a library, cleaning other people’s houses on the weekends, and doing all sorts of odd jobs. Roderich, on the other hand, was a musician and composer who made more money in one concert than Ludwig made in a month, and Feliks was a fashion critic for the newspaper and had a weekly advice column that paid relatively well. As much as Ludwig detested them as living companions, their income was allowing him to really save up money for the first time in his life.

While Ludwig struggled to come up with a threat that would be appropriate, effective, and something he could actually follow up on, Feliks cut in: “Oh my gawd, I like, so totally have to go shopping today,” he exclaimed, flipping his hair. “All my clothes are sooooo last season. What if we suddenly get invited to a party and I have nothing to wear? We gotta go shopping, like right now.”

“Your clothes habits are so wasteful,” Roderich complained, “but I do need more blank music sheets for my composing, so I will go into town with you.”

“Wait!” Ludwig yelled. “I’m not done talking to you!” 

Roderich and Feliks ignored him, gathering their coats and outdoor shoes. “Is there anything you need from town, Ludwig?” Roderich asked innocently. 

Ludwig tried to maintain his anger, but after a pause, he let out a great sigh. “We need more groceries, but I don’t trust you flashy idiots to get them properly, so I’m going with you.” He grabbed his green jacket from the coat hanger and his boots, and soon the three of them left the house.

Roderich and Feliks chatted as they walked to the market, and Ludwig power-walked ahead of them, stopping every few moments to snap at them to hurry up. The group halted at the round fountain, the market center. Ludwig turned to face the other two and put his fists on his hips.

“We shall split up here so we can maximize our time efficiency,” Ludwig announced. “Meet me here at the fountain exactly one hour from now or I’m going home without you and locking the door behind me.”

“Fi~ne,” Feliks drawled boredly.

Just as the three were about to go their own ways, a voice nearby coughed awkwardly. “Ahem. Um. Hear ye, hear ye!” Ludwig, Roderich, and Feliks turned toward the voice.

A man in the fancy uniform of the palace staff was standing on the bench-rim of the fountain. He was short and had soft, wavy brown hair that framed a soft, round face wearing a timid expression. Despite his diminutive stature and presence, he was trying to puff out his chest to stand taller and command more attention. In his shaking hands was a fancy scroll.

“Hear ye, hear ye!” the man said again, trying to project his voice louder. The attempt failed; his voice rose in pitch but not in volume. People began gathering around anyway, drawn by the shiny and colorful palace uniform. 

“Oh my gawd,” Feliks whispered, “that guy is like, so cute. I wanna tease him and make him buy me things.”

The messenger coughed again now that he had a proper audience and unrolled his scroll. “Ahem. Next week, on January 18th, the royal family is holding a birthday party for the totally awesome—” The messenger blanched at something he read on the scroll and cut himself off. “I mean, for Prince Gilbert, who is turning twenty-five years old. All persons are invited to the celebration, as long as they—I mean, as long as nothing. Everyone is invited. The party starts at five o’clock on Friday. Fashionably late starts at—I mean. Um. Also, the Prince is now looking for a one-night—I mean, a relationship! The Prince is going to be looking for a partner at the party.” He lowered the scroll. The audience stared silently back at him. “Um. I’m done.”

At that, the onlookers finally broke out into excited chatter. “Oh my gawd!” Feliks squealed. “I so totally need to buy a new dress!”

Roderich pushed his glasses up his nose with a deceptively thoughtful expression that Ludwig recognized as his scheming face. “This party sounds like a good opportunity to do some social networking and promote my music. I, too, will procure an outfit appropriate for the occasion.”

Ludwig scowled. “Remember to meet back here in one hour! I’m serious about going home without you!”

“Yeah ye~ah,” Feliks sing-songed as he and Roderich headed toward the tailor shop. 

Ludwig sighed and headed in a different direction toward the grocery store. Within seconds all thoughts of the messenger and the party had been forgotten as he absorbed himself in his shopping routine.

* * *

Ludwig was not a party person. He could count on one hand the number of parties he had been to, and in each case someone had forced him to attend. If he had still been living alone, he could have entirely forgotten the prince’s birthday party and lived his life normally.

Unfortunately, Ludwig was forcefully reminded of the fateful date drawing near every moment he spent at home. Feliks and Roderich had turned the house upside down in their excited frenzy. Every day for the entire week leading up to the party, they did nothing but talk about the party, plan how to get what they wanted from people while they were there, go through their clothes looking for just the right accessories and shoes and makeup, and speculate about the prince. If Ludwig had thought his roommates were messy before, it was nothing compared the unholy chaos that he now found when he returned from work.

At first Ludwig could only react with perplexity at the fuss being kicked up over the event, but as his house was increasingly thrown into disarray, his nerves rapidly frayed until he was constantly on the edge of a tantrum or a nervous breakdown. He came home angry, stayed up until midnight cleaning the house angrily, went to sleep angry, and woke up grumpy. He had developed a stress-induced chronic twitch in the skin under his left eye and his throat was rough and sore from screaming so much.

By the day of the prince’s birthday, Ludwig was beyond fed up. He impatiently waited for Feliks and Roderich to finish getting ready and leave for the party so he could clean up the house and go to bed early.

Ludwig waited in the foyer as Feliks pranced down the stairs and spun around. “Hey, Ludwig, what do you think? Aren’t I, like, totally stunning?!”

Feliks was wearing a white blouse with puffy sleeves painted with flowers that cinched just over the elbows, over which was a black vest that laced up in the front. His skirt was vertically striped with red, green, and orange fabric, with a black, flower-embroidered stripe of fabric as the edge. His brown boots were knee-length and lace-up over light-pink nylons. A crown of delicate fabric flowers encircled his blond head and light green eyeshadow brought out the shade of his eyes.

Since Ludwig didn’t know anything about fashion, he sighed and said, “You look fine. Is Roderich ready as well?”

“Indeed I am,” Roderich said serenely as he exited his room. Roderich looked much like he usually did, with a long blue double-button coat, a neck kerchief at his collar, puffy beige pants, and knee-length leather boots with the edge turned down. But all his clothes, and his aura, were fancier somehow: the neck kerchief had a fine lacy edge, the coat’s edges and cuffs were embroidered with geometric leaves in silver thread, and the boots were shinier than usual.

“Finally,” Ludwig grumbled. “Alright, off you go. The stagecoach will be leaving soon.”

“Huh? You aren’t coming with us?” Feliks asked.

“Of course not. I hate huge parties.”

“Are you sure?” Roderich coaxed. “There will be free food, you know. And free beer.”

Ludwig opened his mouth to say no but hesitated. He didn’t lack for money or food, but he was the kind of opportunistic (cheap) person who leapt on any chance for free food. The promise of free food and beer was a strong temptation, but Ludwig resisted. “…No. I have cleaning to do.”

Feliks and Roderich exchanged glances. “Well, whatever you want,” Roderich said mildly as he opened the door. “We’ll see you later.” 

“Yes, until then,” Ludwig sighed. At last he was alone, in the quiet, comforting solitude that he’d been waiting for all week. “Finally. Time for some thorough cleaning.”

Then someone knocked on the door. Ludwig’s eyebrows twitched.

“What did you forget, you prissy stupid-heads,” Ludwig growled and threw the door open, only to find… no one. He looked down. There was a wooden crate on his doorstep.

“What the hell is this?” Ludwig muttered to himself, reaching down. But before he could touch the lid, it popped off on its own with a spray of sparkles and pink smoke.

“Ta-da~ I’m a tomato box fairy~!!! Ve~!”

Ludwig’s hands shot out and grabbed the strange, curl-headed man by the front of his toga. “WHO IN THE HELL ARE YOU?!”

“AAAAAAAHHH!” the man screamed. “I’M SORRY! I’M SORRY! I’M NOT A TOMATO BOX FAIRY! I’M ACTUALLY A FAIRY GODMOTHER! PLEASE DON’T KILL ME I DON’T WANT TO DIIIIIIEEEE!!!”

“You’re a lunatic,” Ludwig decided. “Go bother someone else.” Then, in an impressive display of strength, he took a step forward like a pitcher and threw the weirdo off his property—

—Only for the man to spin to a stop in midair. Floating a foot off the ground, the boy-faced man clasped his hands together in prayer in front of his face. “ Veeee! I’m sorry! I’ll never lie again! I’ll be such a good fairy godmother, I’ll never try to be a tomato box fairy! Just don’t kill me, I swear I don’t taste good—”

“Shut up!” Ludwig snapped. Glancing around to check for watchful neighbors, he grabbed the strange floating person and dragged him inside the house, quickly shutting the door. “Who are you and what do you want?”

“Aah, thank you so much! Ve~ You are such a nice person for not killing me—” 

“SHUT UP AND INTRODUCE YOURSELF!”

“Yessir!” the air-headed idiot snapped to attention, hovering centimeters off the floor. “My name is Feliciano, ve! I’m your fairy godmother! That’s why I’m going to help you find True Love! So let’s start getting ready for the party! Ve~!”

Feliciano raised a sparkly wand with a tomato-shaped wand tip. Ludwig grabbed that wrist in a harsh grip. “That makes absolutely no sense,” he argued as Feliciano whimpered in pain. “For one thing, I don’t believe in fairies… but since you’re flying and I can’t explain it any other way, I’ll ignore that for now. For another thing, I don’t believe in true love. And what does this supposed ‘true love’ have to do with the Prince’s party anyway?!”

“Because the Prince is your True Love!” Feliciano chirped. Then: “Aaaaah don’t kill me! Ve! I’m sorry! Please stop giving me the murder-face!”

Ludwig’s visage at that moment was truly terrifying. Feliciano thought he could see literal thunderclouds in the blond’s stormy blue-gray eyes. “Let me make a few things very clear,” Ludwig gritted out in a low voice. “There is no such thing as true love. I am not going to that party. Instead, I am going to stay home and clean this house until it sparkles. Do you understand.”

Feliciano’s face and posture wilted in sadness, but quickly perked back up. “Hey hey, I have a great idea! Ve~! How about we make a bet? I bet you a box of tomatoes that if you go to the party, you will like the Prince!”

“That’s stupid,” Ludwig snorted. “I won’t be betting anything with you. I’m going to kick you out, and then I’m going to start cleaning.”

“What could it hurt?” Feliciano begged desperately. “If you don’t like the Prince by the end of the party, you’ll get a box of tomatoes! …And you’ll also get lots of free food and alcohol out of it!”

Ludwig paused. After a long moment, he said, “I do like free food and beer… but I absolutely need to clean my house.” 

Feliciano pouted. “Ve~, look, I’ll clean your house for you! I’m super good at cleaning!” Then, without giving Ludwig time to reply, he waved his tomato wand, and Ludwig’s broom, mop, duster, and cleaning other supplies leapt out of the closet on their own and, animated with magic, flew across the room, frantically cleaning. “See?! It’ll be sparkling clean in fifteen minutes! Ve~!” 

Ludwig was caught between reprimanding the fairy for being so lazy and using his cleaning supplies without his permission, and praising him for the obvious speed and skill of the animated objects. His brows furrowed and his mouth opened and closed. Finally, his face relaxed and he sighed. “Alright, fine. I’ll go to this party if it gets you to stop bugging me.”

“YAY!” Feliciano cheered. “Now, just let me spiff you up…” He tried to raise his wand again, but Ludwig was still holding onto his wrist. “Ah. Could you let me go, please? I need to give you an amazing magic makeover! Ve…”

“No,” Ludwig denied. “I refuse. But if you want to put your so called ‘magic’ to work, I plan to get blackout drunk at this party, and I refuse to stay there any longer than the rest of the day. Give me some means of transportation that even a drunk idiot could handle.”

Feliciano sighed, even his strange curl seeming to droop, but when Ludwig let go of his wrist he waved the wand and Ludwig’s plain brown watch became a cheerful tomato-themed watch. “I turned your watch into a one-shot teleportation device,” he explained. “When the clock strikes midnight and the day ends, you’ll be transported home no matter where you are. And your watch will go back to normal, even though it looks much better this way.”

“That is acceptable,” agreed Ludwig. 

Feliciano’s expression brightened again. “Ve~! And to get to the party you can ride in a tomato carriage!”

“No. I refuse.”

* * *

It was eight o’clock and Prince Gilbert was bored of his own birthday party. 

It had been fine to start with—fun, even. He had flirted with girls (and a few cute boys) as the guests filtered in, relishing in turning them into blushing, stuttering messes, and accepting gifts, which weren’t required for attendance, but most people had brought them anyway (which just showed how awesome a prince Gilbert was and how much people liked him). 

Then he had gone to the dance floor, switching partners every song and twirling them all across the ballroom, laughing when they were red-faced and breathless by the end. He was definitely the best dancer! And the best dance partner! He left all the girls swooning! But it was kind of annoying when they tried to cling to him after the song ended. As if forcing themselves on him in a pathetic attempt to monopolize his time would make him like them!

After that he and Antonio, one of his best friends, had gone to the hors d’oeuvre table where Francis, one of the royal chefs and his other best friend, was working. Gilbert and Antonio had made a spectacle of obnoxiously and loudly eating snacks with their mouths open when Francis wasn’t looking, then trying to look innocent when he turned to glare at them suspiciously.

When that had gotten old, Gilbert went back to the dance floor for a few more dances, then to the alcohol table where a group of guys and girls tried to smarm up to him. The obvious name-dropping and false familiarity put Gilbert off his appetite and ruined his good mood, though of course he was too awesome to show it. 

Gilbert had subtly extracted himself from the group without the beer he had gone there for and now, bored and annoyed, he sneakily escaped to the balcony. The winter air outside was frigid compared to the sweltering heat of the ballroom, and he sighed in relief at the temperature and solitude.

Only to realize that he wasn’t, in fact, alone.

Sitting on one of the benches overlooking the snow-sprinkled garden was a broad-shouldered blond man. From where he was standing Gilbert could only see the man’s back, but he could already tell that the stranger was different from anyone else he had seen that evening.

For one thing, this man was wearing incredibly simple clothes. All the other guests had dressed up in the finest of garments, made of velvet and satin and lace and all expertly tailored. In contrast, the blond was wearing plain beige cotton pants and a dull green woolen jacket. 

For another thing, the blond was surrounded by plates laden high with food and beer bottles both empty and full. Unlike the men and women who had eaten delicately in Gilbert’s presence, hoping to impress him or appear sophisticated, this man was shamelessly stuffing his face, unaware of his audience.

Intrigued, Gilbert walked closer, and the man turned to glare over his shoulder at the sound of footsteps on the stone. Stormy blue eyes met Gilbert’s red ones, and the prince gulped as his heart sped up for some reason.

“Hey there,” Gilbert smirked, aiming for nonchalant. “Mind sharing some of that booze with me?”

“Help yourself,” the blond said. His voice was deep and rumbly, and Gilbert’s heart pounded a little harder in his ears. “It’s free beer, after all. The whole reason I came in the first place. That an’ the free food.”

The blond was slurring his words a bit. As Gilbert picked up and opened a beer, he subtly took a closer look at the other’s face. His brows were furrowed slightly and his mouth was frowning, but his eyes looked bright and happy and, though it was difficult to see in the dim light, there was a tipsy blush on his cheeks. 

“Really?” Gilbert asked lightly after taking a refreshing swig from the bottle. “So you’re not interested at all in meeting the _prince_?” The last word had a pointed emphasis, as Gilbert waited to be recognized.

But the blond’s eyes, instead of widening with recognition, narrowed in anger. “No way. I don’ care ‘bout him.” 

Gilbert choked a little on his beer. Part of him was stung by the comment—who was this guy, saying he didn’t care about the awesome Prince Gilbert!—but another part of him was pleasantly surprised by the man’s bluntness. Here was someone who wasn’t smarming up to him, who didn’t even _recognize_ him! Maybe he could have fun talking with this drunk. 

(Maybe he could have an honest conversation with a new person for once in his life.)

“So have you spent the entire party out here, just eating and drinking?” Gilbert asked.

“Yeah,” the blond muttered into his empty beer bottle. He put it down and opened a new one. “I’m not actually hungry anymore, but I feel like I have to finish everything I took. And I don’t have any containers or anythin’ so I can’t bring it home.” 

Gilbert laughed. “Man, you’re in a pinch! That’s pretty funny! Do you mind if I help you with that?” Not waiting for an answer, he reached out and grabbed one of the plates of hors d’oeuvre. The blond man let him.

“I should’ve brought containers,” the blond muttered to himself. “I could have brought home enough food to feed the freeloaders for a month.” 

“Freeloaders?” inquired Gilbert curiously.

Blue eyes lit up with indignant anger and the blond started a drunken rant about the prissy cousin and the eccentric friend who had taken over his home. Gilbert watched with increasing fascination and amusement as the drunk man rambled and ranted. 

“—An’ the worst part is they’re both total slobs! They leave their dirty clothes everywhere, an’ they eat snacks on the couch without plates an’ get crumbs everywhere, an’ they never wash the dishes, and they don’t take their shoes off inside an’ end up tracking dirt all over the floor!” 

“Oh my gawd,” Gilbert exclaimed, “I _so_ feel you! Aren’t people who don’t clean up after themselves just the _worst_? My best friends are super messy no matter how many times I tell them off!” 

“Exactly!” Ludwig tried to snap in agreement, but his large fingers only fumbled clumsily in his intoxication. “So you have to deal with that too? An’ they’re also so lazy, right? It would only take, like, ten extra seconds for them to fold their clothes, or drop them in the laundry hamper, or make the bed, or grab a plate, or rinse off their dirty dishes, or, or, or…” 

“Or take off their shoes and line them up nicely!” Gilbert added. “Or put away their art supplies! Or wash their hands before eating!

“Yeah, ‘xactly!”

Impassioned by the subject of cleanliness, Gilbert and the mysterious blond talked late into the night, not noticing the passing hours as they bemoaned their messy friends and exchanged cleaning tips and detergent recipes. Their conversation meandered from the topic of cleaning to food, to working out, to the virtues of dogs, to other tidbits about their daily lives, all while the beer and food gradually ran out and the moon climbed high in the sky overhead. 

Eventually Gilbert realized that he was still referring to his companion in his head as Hot Blond, for lack of a proper name. “So, hey,” he (not so) smoothly segued, “what’s your name?”

“It’s rude to ask that without introducin’ yourself first,” Hot Blond retorted. He was starting to sway, even though he was still sitting down.

Gilbert laughed nervously. “Oh, right.” He didn’t provide his name.

There was an awkward silence. Then the other man asked suddenly: “Hey, what time s’it?”

Gilbert checked his watch. “It’s… eleven fifty-nine. Wow, I didn’t notice it was getting so late…”

The blond frowned. “I feel like I’m forgettin’ somethin’,” he said. “Like somethin’s s’posed t’happen when today stops.”

Gilbert raised an eyebrow, trying to hide a smirk. “Stops? I was under the impression time doesn’t just stop.”

Scowling darkly, the blond corrected, “You know what I mean. When the dark—no, day. When the day overs. Ends. When the day ends.” 

“You’re not making much sense,” Gilbert laughed. “I think all the beer is finally making you incoherent.”

Just then, the huge clock on one of the castle towers chimed its announcement of the hour, and sounded the first of twelve dongs.

The blond’s eyes widened. “Wait, I remember! When the clock strikes midnight. That was it! Shit, I have to find that fairy. I don’t wanna leave yet!” The man leapt to his feet and dashed for the stairs that led down into the garden as the fourth dong rang, moving with surprising speed and agility for someone so drunk.

“What the hell?!” Gilbert demanded, jumping up and running after him. “What do you mean? A fairy? You’re not making any sense! Why are you running if you just said you don’t want to leave?” Gilbert skipped the last two stairs as the seventh dong rang. 

“It’s the stupid tomato watch!” the man yelled back, fumbling with something on his wrist. He turned a corner on the path and disappeared behind a tall hedge on the eleventh dong. 

“Wait!” yelled Gilbert, rounding the same corner only a beat behind on the final dong of the hour. “I need to know—” 

But the man was gone. There was no blond hair shimmering in the moonlight ahead, no sound of running footsteps on either side of the path. The only trace that the man had been there at all was a tomato watch lying on the gravel path.

* * *

Between one stride and the next, Ludwig stumbled out of the garden into his foyer. The shift in texture under his shoes was so jarring that he tripped over nothing and landed on his hands and knees on the hardwood. The house was dark and silent; the only noises were Ludwig’s pants and grunts. 

After a moment catching his breath, Ludwig gritted his teeth and slammed a fist weakly against the floor like a toddler’s petulant stomp. “Dammit,” he muttered. “I wanted to stay.”

But sulking wasn’t doing anything, so he stood up, took off his shoes, and stumbled his way to bed. There, in a very uncharacteristic manner, he draped his jacket over the foot of the bed, crawled under the sheets without removing his day clothes or brushing his teeth, and fell asleep.

* * *

Gilbert spent the morning after the party in a state of mild depression, unable to find the energy to leave his bed. Around noon his friends Francis and Antonio came to his room, worried because the prince had skipped breakfast and missed the start of lunch. Gilbert was usually an early riser and a prompt attender of meals, so his lack of presence was a tip off about his mood.

“We brought you breakfast in bed,” Francis announced as he entered uninvited, “but you can’t have any until you tell us what is wrong.”

“I have shitty friends,” Gilbert moaned from under the pillow covering his face. “Taunting me with food.”

“You mean, ‘I have awesome friends who care about my well-being,’ ” Antonio corrected. “Now spill! You disappeared from the party after only three hours!”

“Did you find someone special to spend the rest of the evening with?” asked Francis, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. 

Gilbert lifted the pillow to glare at them. “I did, not that it’s any of your business,” he grumbled. “And he was totally awesome, unlike you un-awesome people. He was super buff and handsome and he drank beer like a pro and he liked cleaning and working out and dogs.”

Francis clasped this hands together, eyes sparkling; he was a true romantic who delighted in stupid ideas like love at first sight and fated meetings. “Magnificent! He sounds perfect for you! My friend, this is splendid news!”

“But he disappeared,” Gilbert muttered sullenly.

“You mean he left?”

“No, he disappeared. Vanished. I was following him but he turned a corner and was gone. I’d think it was just a dream if he hadn’t left this behind.” An arm emerged from the blanket burrito holding a watch with small tomatoes printed all over. “But it doesn’t matter. I’m never gonna see him again.”

“Don’t say that, Gilbert!” said Antonio, ever the optimistic one. “You just have to find him again!”

“How am I gonna do that?!” Gilbert demanded, finally sitting up. “I don’t know his name! I know that he has two roommates who are super messy, but I don’t know their names either. I know that he cleans his house everyday, but I don’t know where that house is. I know that he does odd jobs, but I don’t know where he works. I even know that he’s a talkative drunk, but I don’t know what his personality is usually like! How am I supposed to find someone with that information? He could be anywhere in the kingdom!”

Francis and Antonio shared surprised expressions at Gilbert’s outburst, then smiled. 

“Don’t worry, Gilbert,” Antonio said. “We’ll help you! Anything is possible if the Bad Friends Trio put their minds to it!”

“You mean when the best third of the Bad Friends Trio puts his magnificent skills to work,” Francis corrected. “Luckily for your love life, Gilbert, I am an artist!”

“What does that have to do with anything,” Gilbert frowned.

Francis smirked. “Have you ever heard of a head-hunter portrait*?”

* * *

Ludwig spent the morning after the party nursing his hangover and thinking about the silver-haired, red-eyed man he had met and talked with that night. His memories got fuzzy around where they had started talking about the best kinds of dogs, but even the incorporeal, just-out-of-reach remembrance after that was tinged with pleasant emotions.

After ditching the tomato carriage half a mile before the palace gates and walking the rest of the way, Ludwig had grabbed a veritable mountain of food and as many bottles of beer as he could hold and had retreated outside without looking at anyone too closely. Even though he was confident he would win the bet, he had felt some apprehension about competing with a fairy. Even one as obviously air-headed as Feliciano. Therefore he had taken precautionary action to avoid attracting attention or paying attention to anyone else, on the off chance that some magical cheating would make his eyes meet those of the prince, or vice versa. The less Ludwig was aware of the presence of the one he was avoiding, the better. And the less he interacted with the party, the better chance he had of safe avoidance. 

But after a few beers the world had gotten a little softer and avoidance of all human contact seemed less imperative. So he had been amenable to letting the white-haired stranger share his space and his beer and his food.

And then the mysterious man had revealed himself to be surprisingly similar to Ludwig. That, along with some more beer, had made him more open than he usually was, and he found himself having fun.

Ludwig didn’t remember when the man had left him, or when he’d left the man, or how he’d gotten home. He didn’t know the man’s name, or where he lived, or even if he was half as interested in Ludwig has Ludwig had been in him. Ludwig generally wasn’t good at showing when he liked someone or deciphering when someone else liked him.

“I’ll probably never see him again,” Ludwig muttered to himself as he cleaned up the mess Roderich and Feliks had left last night when they returned home. “It doesn’t matter. I have other things to worry about.”

So Ludwig tried to put the handsome, charming stranger and his wide smile and oddly endearing, cackling laugh out of his mind.

It was more difficult than it should have been. 

Ludwig tried to immerse himself in cleaning to avoid thinking, but inevitably remembered exchanging cleaning tips. Remembering the recommendations he’d received made him think of the person who’d given them to him, which made his brain overload with confusing and conflicting feelings.

When he rebooted, Ludwig decided the house was clean enough from the fairy and moved to the kitchen, where he aggressively stress-baked until he couldn’t think of anything except ingredients and cooking measurements. By the time Feliks and Roderich finally awoke and emerged from their rooms past noon, there was a wide array of cookies and cupcakes waiting for them with a full-size cake in the oven. 

“Um… are you well, Ludwig?” Roderich asked carefully.

“I am fine,” Ludwig grunted as he pounded a lump of bread dough.

“Did, like, something happen yesterday?” asked Feliks, nervously twirling his hair around his fingers.

Ludwig glared at him fiercely. “Nothing happened!”

Feliks and Roderich wisely left him alone after that.

* * *

Early the next day, a bright Sunday morning, Gilbert and his two wingmen left the palace armed with a sketch of the mystery man’s face that Francis had drawn based on Gilbert’s description, the tomato watch, and a picnic lunch in case the search went long. Gilbert didn’t wear his princely crown, but his clothes were fancy enough and his face was well-known enough that he stood out and attracted attention as soon as he arrived in the city. They didn’t have much luck there; no one recognized the man in Francis’s portrait. 

It was a discouraging start, but not a hopeless one. There were a lot of people in the city, after all, and no one could know everyone. There were also several smaller towns and villages around the city that the man could be in. Gilbert, Francis, and Antonio made a circuit of the city, showing the picture to everyone they came across, and finally they got a hit.

“Hm… this looks kind of familiar…” mused a man with a white mask covering his eyes. “There’s something off about his expression, but I’m pretty sure I saw him a few times when I went to one of the towns over to the west of the city.”

Sure enough, the farther west the Bad Friends Trio went, the more likely people on the street were to recognize the picture.

“I know I’ve seen that hair before,” said a mocha-skinned woman with long pigtails. “But I don’t think he was wearing such a… _neutral_ expression.”

“Oh, I’ve seen that nose and chin!” exclaimed a short man with black hair in a low ponytail. “When I go into that town to sell my super effective medicines! Sometimes I pay him to set up my booth for me!” The man couldn’t provide a name, but he gave the trio directions to the town where he lived.

The Bad Friends Trio reached the town around noon and ate lunch by a round fountain before showing the portrait around. Here, almost everyone recognized the picture, and they all had something similar to say about it:

“Oh, that’s what Ludwig would look like if he wasn’t always glaring!”

“Wow, that would look just like Ludwig if you had put a murder-face on it!”

“I’d say that’s Ludwig, except the guy in the picture doesn’t look like he’s chewing someone out.”

Gilbert snapped his fingers, suddenly remembering something. “Oh yeah, he was glaring at me when I first met him. But he lightened up afterward, so I forgot about it.”

Francis and Antonio exchanged worried looks. “Are you sure you want to meet him sober?” But Gilbert was still determined, so they continued on.

“I know him,” said a short blond man with a white beret and an angry face. “That’s Ludwig. Roderich lives with him.” 

“Awesome!” Gilbert exclaimed. “Where does he live? Where’s his house?”

“Why should I tell you?” the man asked suspiciously.

“C’mooon, please? I’m the prince, you have to tell me! …Okay, you don’t have to, don’t shoot me! But I need help! C’mooon, help me out here!”

After several minutes of insistent badgering, the man gave up Ludwig’s address. Shortly after, Gilbert found himself in front of a rather large but perfectly normal house, trying to swallow the butterflies in his throat.

“Are you sure about this?” Francis asked.

“Of course I am! The awesome me is always sure about everything!” With that, Gilbert gathered his courage and knocked firmly on the door.

After a moment, heavy footsteps approached the door. Gilbert’s heart pounded. Then the door was pulled open and he found himself faced with Ludwig’s impressive glare.

Despite himself, Gilbert grinned, his nerves almost immediately disappearing in the face of his sheer joy. “I found you!” he crowed. “Kesesese! I am awesome!”

Ludwig’s glare fell into an expression of shock. “How did…”

“My friend drew a picture of you,” Gilbert explained, holding up the sketch as proof, “and we showed it around until we got the right directions!”

Ludwig examined the portrait with wide eyes. “That does look like me…”

“Except it’s not glaring,” Roderich noted, looking over Ludwig’s shoulder.

“Shut up,” Ludwig grumbled. “I don’t glare all the time. It’s just my thinking face.”

“It’s okay,” Gilbert said. “I think your thinking face is awesome! It’s super badass! And so is the rest of you! Please go out with me!”

Behind him, Francis and Antonio facepalmed at Gilbert’s straightforward approach.

Luckily for Gilbert, Ludwig was also a straightforward kind of person. “I had fun talking with you last night,” he said, “so sure. I’ll go out with you.”

“Awesome!” Gilbert cheered.

Just then, Feliks popped into the doorway as well. “Wow, Ludwig, you just scored with the prince! Aren’t you a lucky guy!”

Ludwig’s face blanched with shock again. “You’re the _prince_?!”

Gilbert laughed, looking uncharacteristically self-conscious. “Uh, yeah, I am!”

Ludwig gaped for a few more seconds before rubbing a hand over his eyes. “Well, shit. Now I owe someone a box of tomatoes.”

“What? …Wait, speaking of tomatoes, you dropped this.” Gilbert pulled the tomato watch out of his pocket and held it out.

“Cute!” Feliks exclaimed. “Ludwig, when did you get such a cute watch?”

“It’s not mine!” Ludwig denied, blushing furiously. “Well, it was, but then the fairy changed it and made it like that.” He grabbed the watch out of Gilbert’s hands; as soon as he did, there was a pink poof of smoke and then Feliciano the Fairy Godmother appeared.

“HOLY SHIT!” Gilbert yelped, jumping back.

“Ve~” Feliciano beamed. “I told you the prince was your True Love!”

“I still don’t believe in true love,” said Ludwig, scowling. It’s usual effect was lessened by the embarrassed blush on his cheeks. “But I’ll still uphold our bet because I did end up liking the prince… even though I didn’t know he was the prince. Now turn my watch back, it looks stupid right now.”

“Okay! Ve~” Feliciano obediently waved his wand, and the watch returned to its original state. “Aw, it looks super boring now!”

Gilbert shook his head and tried to rally himself. “Wait, so you made a bet with a fairy that you wouldn’t like me?”

“He wouldn’t stop bugging me to go to the party and offered the bet, and I had to get him off my back somehow!” Ludwig defended. “And besides, I didn’t know you were the prince!”

Gilbert smirked. “So you’re saying if you knew the awesome me was the prince, you wouldn’t have taken the bet?”

Ludwig covered his face with his hands, but it didn’t cover his red ears. Behind him, Feliks fell to the floor laughing and Roderich turned a chuckle into a cough into his sleeve.

“Kesesese, you’re cute!” Gilbert laughed. “I guess I can forgive you for thinking so little of the awesome me. You can make it up to me right now by coming with me on a date!”

“Fine,” Ludwig mumbled, muffled by his hands, “but only to get away from these idiots.”

* * *

“…And then we went on a ton of awesome dates and fell in love and got married and become the most awesome couple ever!” Gilbert concluded years later as he retold the story of how he and Ludwig had met.

“And that is how the kingdom was saved from an incompetent and lazy ruler who would have run the country bankrupt in three years without me,” Ludwig added, deadpan.

**Author's Note:**

> *My made-up FairyTale!AU term for a facial composite, which is the fancier, proper term for a police sketch.


End file.
